The fear you make me feel
by frilencer
Summary: At the end of a tough week, Tony does something he has always wanted to do, but then he has to deal with the consequences of his action.


**Here I am again :) I haven't written anything in so much time and I'm glad to be back with another oneshot, a little longer than the others.**

**I don't own anything of NCIS apart from an NCIS t-shirt** **and and NCIS hoodie**.

If he had been asked, he wouldn't have been able to say how that week had started. He had found himself in the middle of that tough week without even noticing. It was one of those cases that demanded all the agents' energy, one of those cases in which Gibbs' team wasn't allowed to take a break until it was solved. That hell of a week had already lasted six days. Tony vaguely remembered being woken up by Gibbs' phone call on a Sunday morning. The only thing he remembered next was him at the office with Ziva and McGee investigating a case that had drained them of all their strength; and the week wasn't over yet. The case was far from being solved.

He hadn't properly slept for days. The team took turns at sleeping while the others were working. The most comfortable place where he had slept in the past week was the floor behind his desk. He had tried sleeping in the restroom and near the showers, but all he had got was a terrible backache and he hadn't felt any fresher afterwards. Besides, they only ate hamburgers and Chinese food and even Tony – who was known for his not-so-healthy meals – missed a slow and relaxing dinner in front of TV. If you added the long lasting car trips, the never-ending interrogatories, and the lack of jokes, there were all the ingredients to make that week one of the most stressful weeks in Tony's life.

The tension was tangible in the bullpen. Everyone of them could _feel _it. It was like a thick fog that covered everything and sucked all the cheerfulness out of them. There were no jokes, no laughs, no smiles exchanged between the colleagues; there was no strength left to give the atmosphere a little color. Tony had tried, but he had given up after three days of hard and never ending work. He had understood that if he wanted to survive that week, he had to preserve the energy with a view to whatever could happen: you never knew what you would have to do, you never knew if there would be new suspects to interrogate, a guy to chase, or a new crime scene to investigate. He had seen so many new faces that week, he had listened to so many voices… he didn't really feel like to filling the silence with his own words, his own voice. He just enjoyed the rare moments of calm and silence: he closed his eyes and tried to regain the strength he would need for the following hours. A second later, he was forced to open the eyes again because he knew that he had to go back to work.

The situation had obviously affected the team a lot. McGee was starting to get sick of working at the computer – which was unbelievable because you thought that McGee had basically spent his whole life in front of a computer. Sometimes Tony saw his colleague move his gaze from the computer and rest his eyes, which were most likely tired of staring at the screen. Gibbs was even more silent and demanding than usual. He barked orders from one side of the office to the other and drank what looked like buckets of coffee. He walked into the bullpen and oversaw his team's work, but he was always soon gone. He had to go see Abby, he had to talk to Vance, he had to talk to Ducky; Tony suspected that he had been seeing Fornell too. He was like a shadow that flew through the bullpen for a second, but that disappeared a moment later. However, even though the pressure that the boss felt on his shoulder was making him even more Gibbs-like, Tony often noticed that he looked like he wished he could tell his team to take a break, to have a rest, to grab a pillow and sleep for some time; but he couldn't do that. He couldn't stop the work that was being done in the office. It was important and everybody knew that, and this was the reason why nobody complained. You could only listen to some snorts sometimes or you could hear a yawn or see a dejected face; but you would never see anyone stand up and say: "I'm done, I'm going. I can't take anymore."

Then there was Ziva. It was obvious that she was struggling to look concentrated and lucid, but she was just as tired as the others. She often rubbed her temples with her thumbs, keeping her eyes closed, breathing in and out slowly. Tony suspected that that was the way she always used to face those difficult situations and he thought – and while thinking about this, he smiled for the first time in days – that she probably used the same method to cure the headache that, as she said, he was always giving to her.

Tony and Ziva had had only a little chat in the past six days: it was one of those precious calm moments and it was when they were driving to Quantico to talk to a Navy Sergeant. Tony had offered to drive and Ziva hadn't said anything: she was obviously too tired to do that herself and it was probably the best for both of them to have a longer, but safer car trip. They had started discussing the case, but they soon had started to talk about the team's situation. Tony had even made a joke and he had made her laugh lightly: her laughter sounded like a music that day in the car and Tony tried to capture the moment in his mind to keep it there at least until the end of that terrible week. He would need it in the difficult hours that were still waiting to be lived.

But that was two days before; a lot had happened since then. The tiredness had grown, the tension was getting deeper and heavier as time passed. They knew they were running out of time: they had to solve the case as soon as possible in order to prevent any risk of great damage to the State. Sensitive information had been stolen and was probably going to be sold: they couldn't let this happen. Vance kept showing up in the bullpen, asking for updates, spurring them to find the thieves and to bring them in. Gibbs followed their every move carefully and Tony could almost feel his breath on his own nape even when the boss wasn't around.

The personal chats were now inexistent and it wasn't unusual that they let themselves lose the polite and composed temper that it usually characterized them. At a certain point, Tony crossed the line. They were discussing the case, sounding out their theories, but they ended up fighting. They let the tension that had built up in them pour out of their bodies, they broke their composure and let the tiredness take possession of them. Tony yelled at Ziva and she yelled back at him and they didn't stop until Gibbs entered the bullpen and gave them each a slap on the back of the head. That immediately hushed them, but the storm that the fight had created didn't leave the room soon enough. They didn't talk to each other for the rest of the day; they even avoided looking at each other. That was the worst day of the week for Tony: there was nothing left. There wasn't even the hope of a smile or a little chat: just the mountains of work, the long phone calls that kept him stuck at his desk for hours. He needed a break, he knew it. He needed to stop working for a while, he needed something to free his mind from all the worry and the prostration that filled it. Even a chat with Ziva would have been enough for him. He just needed to smile, to laugh a little. He just needed to shake off all that tension that was now like his second skin. He needed to be free again.

Tony decided to apologize. The situation was hard enough without them being angry at each other. That wasn't what they needed. The only thing that they could hang on at that moment was the closeness of the team, the strong bond that tied them, and above all the two of them. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to say "I'm sorry" just like he had a few years ago, when she was back from Somalia and he had told her "I'm sorry", freeing himself from that sense of guilt that had been haunting him for the whole summer. He needed to apologize to be given back the hope of seeing that smile again, that smile that could at least heal the wounds that that tough week was causing in his soul.

The job gave him a hard time to find a proper moment to talk to her. Interviews, phone calls, meetings, even camp fires. The whole Navy Yard was upside down because of that case. Everybody talked about that, about what was now called "The Big Threat". Somebody could have told him that that wasn't the right moment to take care of personal issues, but Tony knew that it was exactly the right time. It was the only thing that could give him back the strength he needed to face the next hours, maybe even the next days. For this reason, as soon as he was given the chance to spend some time alone with her, he seized the opportunity.

Tony stopped the elevator and turned to face her, just in time to see her reaction. Ziva tried to hide the uneasiness she was feeling, but Tony caught the light tremble of her lips and the lost expression of her eyes that were staring the doors of the elevator, closed in front of her.

"I'm sorry for yesterday," he said, before he could rethink about it.

Ziva didn't say anything for a while. She just bent her head a little and kept staring at the doors. "We are all very tensed," she replied then, simply, without moving her gaze. Tony didn't move his own either and kept studying her with his eyes, trying to catch every little emotion that could show up on her skin. He was getting better and better at understanding the language of her body: the large amount of time they had spent together in the past seven years had brought them much closer than he would have bet they would have become. He didn't mind at all: he loved sharing that closeness with her; he loved the relationship that they had built between the two of them; he loved the way she made him feel, even though he was still trying to figure out that strong feeling that he couldn't find words to describe.

After long instants of silence, Tony finally spoke, still staring at her intensely. "I know, but we shouldn't let this tension break us."

Ziva smiled sadly, but didn't say anything back. It was obvious that she shared his thought, though. He had noticed how much the tension that had been building up between the members of the team had made her uncomfortable.

"This week has already lasted for too long," he said, his eyes completely lost in studying her face.

She nodded slightly and bit her lip. "I agree. But we cannot do anything to make it end, it does not depend on us."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said, turning to face the doors of the elevators. "I just wish I could get out of here without being seen and go back home, have a pizza, watch a movie, sleep for, like, twenty hours straight." He paused for a moment, then he continued, with his tone of voice higher. "And a shower! How long haven't we had a shower?"

"At least a few days," Ziva answered simply.

"A few days!" Tony repeated, almost shouting now. "And how long has it been since we've had a decent lunch, huh?"

"Hamburgers and other junk food? I thought you did not mind. You always eat that kind of food," Ziva answered, smirking a little.

"Yeah, thanks for that. But I'm getting sick of it." Tony laughed with sarcasm in his tone. What was meant to be a speech about being sorry for what he had done was becoming a monologue about how much that situation sucked. Tony knew he had to stop, but it felt right – and good – to finally let those words out of him. "How long can we live like this, huh? How long do you think this is going to last?"

"I do not know, Tony, but…"

"Don't get me wrong, I know it's important, but it's driving me crazy. No rest, no peace, no decent food, no time to sleep. I feel like my brain is reducing to mush. And Vance… Vance! He just walks in, thinking we can give him all the answers he needs whenever he needs them. Who does he think we are? We know as much as he does, yet he keeps demanding us for more effort, because it seems like it's never enough. I mean, I understand his situation, SecNav has been pressing him quite a lot, but this doesn't change things. He's been really tough on us lately; doesn't he see we're doing our best?"

"Tony…"

"I know that it's a hard situation to handle, but it's not any easier for us. Have you seen McGee? The guy hasn't left the computer for days – this must be a record. I'm sure not even his buddies from those online games have been in front of the computer for that much time. I mean, we're getting crazy! And Abby! She's always…"

"Stop it!" Ziva suddenly shouted, and the silence immediately filled the elevator. Tony moved his gaze to her and she exchanged his look. Her eyes were looking right into his, just like they did in those moments they shared sometimes, those moments that brought them closer than ever. For some reason, those moments most of the times occurred in hard moments: it seemed like it was the tension, the fear, the pain that made their bond stronger.

Ziva waited for some moments before speaking, moments in which the two lost themselves in the other's gaze, looking for something they were still trying to name. "This situation will be over soon," she said with a smile, the same smile she had worn that day when she had helped him to get over the period of crisis he was living because of what had happened to Brenda Bittner, the same smile she always showed him when he needed it. "It will be over." She then had turned and she made the elevator move again. Nothing was said after that, but nothing needed to be said either. The following hours were much easier to live through for both of them.

* * *

><p>The next day there was a rush in the office. Echelon had intercepted some words that indicated where and when the information would be sold. The news was greeted by the office with a relieved sigh, but they all soon were catapulted back into their work. There was an ambush to be prepared and the op was assigned to Gibbs' team, as everybody had expected it would. The team worked hard to prepare everything: there was still the tension, there was still the tiredness and the desire of going away, but they were all relieved by the idea that that week would soon be over. A few hours and they would catch the thieves. Case shut, everybody home. They all savored the idea in their minds, but they were soon brought back to the present time. There was a lot to do and only a little time to think: in the few moments Tony allowed himself to take a break, he only thought about that moment he and Ziva had shared in the elevator. He sometimes felt like he lived for moments like that, as if he spent his life waiting for those moments to happen. He knew why he felt like this, he knew why she gave him that feeling, but that wasn't the right time to focus on it. There would be time, in the future, he knew.<p>

The time of the op arrived. They wore their body armors, they took their guns, they rushed to their cars. Tony felt the adrenaline running through his veins and down his spine, just like before every situation like that. He confined the fear to a little place somewhere in his chest and he tried to find the concentration. You never got used to those missions. You never got used to the thrill, the fear, to that cloud of anxiety that surrounded you.

In the car, he and Ziva barely looked at each other, and Tony thought it was the best thing. It wasn't the right time to get distracted by her, it wasn't the right time to lose concentration. He usually liked to ease the tension with jokes and chats, but this time he didn't. He just looked in front of him, lost in his mind, without actually seeing anything. An hour later, he was jumping off the car, with his gun in his hands, and the tiredness was, for some time, forgotten.

* * *

><p>The next thing he knew, he was kissing her. He felt like he was in a bubble, a bubble that isolated the two of them from the rest of the world. The sounds coming from the outside were softened, distant, as if they belonged to another reality, to another planet; a planet that couldn't touch them, a planet that couldn't blow up the bubble in which they had found refuge.<p>

Tony could barely remember what had happened before: only vague images of the past few minutes were still wandering in his mind, waving and fleeting. He remembered the shots, the fear that made his heart beat furiously, the tension that had taken away his breath for a while. He remembered people yelling, bodies approaching other bodies, people falling to the ground, dead or wounded. He remembered the second of silence, immediately followed by other yells, this time coming from behind him. He remembered turning and seeing Ziva with a gun pointed at her head. He remembered standing still, with his gun pointed at the man near Ziva, unable to think, unable to feel anything else but the mix of anger and fear that was stuck somewhere in the middle of his throat. He remembered the shot then. He remembered the body falling to the ground, with blood pouring from the head. He remembered that flash of relief that had crossed Ziva's face – and probably his too – after seeing that she was safe again.

He remembered the silence, the silence that followed the battle, a silence filled with tiredness and thoughts, thoughts that had to be pushed away. A silence that kept people apart: everyone stood in their own circle of room, contemplating the devastation of what had happened, trying to free themselves from the fear that still pulsed in their veins, trying to enjoy the peace and the relief.

He remembered looking at her for those long moments, lost in the silence. He remembered that she had moved her gaze from the body on the ground and looked around her until she had met Tony's eyes. He remembered seeing in her eyes the worry that not even the earned peace could sweep away. He remembered seeing in her eyes that feeling of weakness and apprehension that he had seen few months before when she had let him comfort her after Mike's death. Just like then, she was full of fear and anxiety, feelings that haunted her and made her feel vulnerable, fragile.

Tony remembered taking some steps, getting closer to her, without moving his eyes from her. They were completely lost in each other's eyes, exchanging feelings and thoughts in a way they could do only with the other. He had gotten closer, breaking the distance that kept them apart; and when he was close enough to hear, she had murmured, "It is over." And he had kissed her.

When their lips touched, his mind went blank: it was wiped clean, all the thoughts had disappeared into thin air, letting him concentrate only on the flow of feelings that streamed inside of him. Their noses brushed for an instant and he caressed her lips with his own, just for a moment. When the air went back to fill the space between them, he felt Ziva's warm breath on his face, and even though his eyes were closed, he could almost see her mouth still opened, maybe too stunned to move, maybe waiting for a new touch. He got closer again and plunged onto her lips, this time to kiss her with increasing vigor and passion. However, the kiss was still a tender meeting, a beautiful encounter between two souls that flowed into the other's body to fill it with their own warmth.

Tony didn't let himself think about anything. There were only feelings, passion, love. He didn't care that Gibbs could enter the warehouse any moment. He didn't care about what would happen next. He just enjoyed that moment with all the energy that was left in his body and let her light his heart with her presence. A few moments later, they broke apart, at the same time, as if they both knew that it was time to end it. They stood there for a while, with their eyes staring at the other's lips, in silence, enjoying the closeness of their breaths. Then Tony raised his gaze and met Ziva's eyes once again. There was a light in her eyes, a trembling light, a light that told him what she was feeling inside: the same turmoil of emotions as the one he felt. He smiled lightly and so did she: in that instant Ziva became an open book for Tony and he could read her feelings and her thoughts as if they were his own, maybe also because, after all, they weren't so different from his.

A few moments later, they walked away and went back to work. The next few hours passed slowly and Tony forced himself to put as much effort as he could in those last minutes of work he had to do. He didn't think about what had happened, and every time his mind tried to go back to that moment, he pushed those thoughts away. There would be time, he knew.

He went home, struggling not to fall asleep. He drove slowly, calmly, enjoying the beauty of the street lamps that lit the streets with an orange light. He opened the door and got into a house that had never looked so homely before: he enjoyed for a moment the view of the couch, of the television, the usually annoying buzzing of the fridge coming from the kitchen. He went straight to bed, with an OSU t-shirt on, and rested his back onto the mattress, that felt like the softest and most comfortable mattress ever. A few seconds later, when by his clock it was two in the morning, he was asleep.

* * *

><p>When Tony woke up the following day, he felt like he had to sober up. His head ached and he still felt exhausted, even though he had slept for at least twelve hours. It was two in the afternoon and he was confused: he wasn't used to waking up that late and it took him a few minutes to make the brain work properly. It was extremely hard even to think for him right then. He sat on the bed and stayed there for a while, without actually seeing what was in front of him, as if he were blind. He slowly felt the energy start flowing in his veins again and after a week of tiredness and tension, he was finally feeling fine and alert.<p>

Soon, the memories of the past week peeped out in his mind: Gibbs' voice echoed in his brain and a current of coffee, cars, hamburgers and pillows flooded his head. He felt relieved: that week was over, it was gone forever. Then, just like a light in the middle of a fog of bad memories, he remembered the kiss. He smiled and closed his eyes, while living again those moments: her whisper, the touch of their lips and their noses, and above all her smile and the light in her eyes. He could still feel the same feelings as if he still were there, kissing her, as if that kiss had lasted the whole night and not even the deep sleep had been able to sweep away those emotions.

However, he soon felt like something was wrong. He adverted the uneasiness clear its way through his body and invade him. What seemed perfect just few moments before was now giving him a hard time.

_What did I do? _He thought and he was hit by his own words. Why was he feeling so upset? He had _kissed _her, he had done something that he had always wanted to do, but never had the courage to do. Then why was it bothering him so much? It took him some time to find the answer: it wasn't _the kiss _that felt wrong. No, that felt right, that felt like the first right thing he had done in months, maybe even in years. What felt wrong was the future, the future that, as much as he tried, he couldn't figure out.

Tony had never thought much about them together. It had been difficult enough for him to realize and admit to himself that he loved her. It had been hard enough to live with that feeling, with the feeling that made his days more beautiful, but also more difficult to handle. Love was a beautiful thing, but you always had to struggle with the fear of saying too much, doing things wrong, letting yourself do things you shouldn't have done. It was a fight, a fight against his instincts, a fight that had made him, after all, a better person. He had always concentrated on what she made him fell, on _how _she made him feel. He had always focused on her, on his feelings for her, on the way she smiled and laughed and talked to him. He had always enjoyed the moments they had lived together without thinking too much about what would happen next, what the future was preparing for the two of them. They were walking along a road and he savored every step they took without letting himself daydream about the destination. Even when he had thought about them kissing or them talking about their feelings with the other… he had never focused on the _afterwards_. There was where his mind stopped: at the moment of the kiss, at the moment of the truth, at the moment of the disclosure of their hearts.

Now he was totally unprepared. He was living the afterwards, he was living the day after the kiss and slowly realizing that the reality was much harder than he had expected. When he had thought about it, he had imagined that it would be easy after the kiss, after the truth: it would be easy to talk to each other, get together, start a life _together_. Now he realized how much he had always been wrong: it wasn't easy at all.

Loving and being together were two completely different things, and neither of them was easier than the other. He had always focused so much on loving her, that he had never thought too much about actually _being _with her. It was a totally new feeling for him: he had fallen in love with women before, but never _before _being with them. His life had consisted of a series of dates that sometimes had eventually brought to feelings. This was the opposite situation: he had feelings for Ziva, he had kissed her and now he had to think about the getting-together part. He had to _deal _with the getting-together part.

Not that he wasn't happy, because he definitely was; but he was now haunted by all the fears that had chased him while he was still trying to figure out his feelings for Ziva. He didn't know if he was ready to live a life with her, probably because what he was looking for in his relationship with her was something he had never found nor sought before. He was afraid not to be ready to be with her because he was afraid that he couldn't do enough for them. It was his last chance and he was afraid to lose everything, just making a mistake. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to behave. The more he thought about, the more he realized that he didn't want to face all of this the day after. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to _see _her again, to be aware of her gaze on his skin. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to feel that he had to do something, that he had to take a step, to make a move and that that move had to be a good one. He could destroy everything or he could make it perfect.

And even when Tony would tell Ziva that he _wanted _to be with her, even when he would tell her that he wanted to try with her… there would still be hurdles to clear, there would be still a long way to go. He tried to picture in his mind the view of them together at his place: he walked to the living room and tried to see the two of them on the couch, drinking beer while watching a movie. He tried to see his arm around her, he tried to see her head on his shoulder. He tried to hear the laughter, to see her smile, to feel another kiss on his lips, but it wasn't easy. It was so far from where they were. Yes, they had already spent nights together, but it was a long time ago: it seemed like since they had started to feel something for each other, they had tried to avoid to see each other out of work, maybe afraid of what could happen.

Tony tried to see her in his home and, even though he felt like it was a beautiful view… it wasn't easy. It just wasn't. He could almost _feel _the uneasiness of the first days and it felt so strange to think that what they were heading towards was a complete sharing of thoughts, feelings and bodies. He couldn't imagine himself touching Ziva in every way without being threatened or, worse, killed. He couldn't imagine himself having, somehow, the right to take care of a woman who seemed not to be in need of any care. Yet Tony knew she needed it and, even though he was aware of the fact that Ziva wouldn't let him treat her as if she were a puppy to cuddle and to protect, she would still be the strong and independent woman she had always been, he knew that something would change. There was a point in being together – and unlike he had thought for a part of his life, that point wasn't only about sleeping together. He was looking forward to taking those steps with Ziva, yet he was afraid to.

As the hours passed, Tony felt cold more and more. He tried to watch a movie, but his thoughts were always back to her and to the day he had to live in a few hours. What would he do when he would first see her? Would he have to smile? Would he have to say something? Of course, he couldn't talk to her in the bullpen, but he was afraid of talking to her anywhere. He couldn't just tell her, "Hey, can you please come over? I have to tell you something." It just wasn't them. They didn't ask for talking: they just started to talk to the other, who could decide whether to listen or to go away. Most times they stayed anyway, so Tony hoped that if he tried to talk to her she wouldn't flee. After all, she couldn't escape forever; besides, deep down, Tony was convinced that Ziva wanted to face the situation just as much as he did. He just had to find the words, he just had to find the way. He thought about preparing a speech, but he immediately slapped himself in his mind for the stupid idea: it would be ridiculous, not to mention the fact that he would probably forget everything he wanted to say at the right moment when he would see her.

That night it was much harder for him to get asleep. He stared at the ceiling above him for dozens of minutes, his thoughts flying between his fears and expectations and the beauty of the memory of the kiss they had shared. Every noise bothered him, even the ticking of the clock and the sounds coming from the street. He felt like there was a conspiracy against him, he felt like the whole world was trying to make it hard for him to close his eyes and leave the reality for a few hours. However, soon not even the noises and the heat could keep his eyelids open and his mind alert, and he fell asleep.

* * *

><p>Tony breathed deeply and watched the doors of the elevator open in front of his eyes. He waited a few seconds before getting out and he did that in a different way than usual. He usually walked into the bullpen with a rapid tread and a smiling face, but this time he proceeded slowly, hesitating a little, with all the muscles of his face stretched because of the tension. He saw McGee first and he smiled lightly at his direction. He tried to postpone as much as he could the moment when he would have to look at Ziva, but as soon as he sat at his desk it was impossible to avoid staring at her.<p>

There she was. Before even focusing on her, he smiled a little in her direction and he saw her smile back. It had been a little smile, not bigger than the usual, but it had looked much brighter to him. He wondered whether it was the situation that had changed his perception or if the brightness of her smile had actually shifted. He wanted to try to understand what she was thinking about, but it was hard enough for him to look at her for more than a moment, so he just lowered his gaze and pretended to start working, whereas his thoughts never left her face.

When Gibbs entered the squad room, the work started. The agents were brought back to the daily routine: researches at the computer, interviews, little chats. Tony and Ziva barely had the time to talk to each other, and when they did, they only spoke about work. However, Tony could feel the difference: when they were next to each other, he could sense her uneasiness, he could feel that she couldn't stop thinking about the kiss either. She tried to hide what was happening inside of her and she probably managed to make people think that nothing had changed, but she couldn't fool Tony. Knowing that there was something to notice, he _noticed_, and her reaction somehow flattered him, even though her closeness wasn't making it any easier to think about what he could tell her.

The hours passed and the air between the two of them was getting harder and harder to breathe. Every time their eyes met, the embarrassment spread from their faces and filled the distance that separated them. They immediately lowered their eyes and tried to avoid any eye-contact for the next twenty minutes at least, but they always ended up going back looking at the other eventually.

Tony couldn't bear this situation anymore. For a moment, he had considered the option of not talking to her at all, but now it sounded stupid. This was not what he wanted: he didn't want him and Ziva to feel so distant, so awkward together. If this was what the kiss was bringing to them, he wished he had never kissed her. He had to do something: he had to talk to her, just like he had planned to do. Yes, it wouldn't be easy, but it could only be worse, as he would let time pass; but he had to do something, and he was sure of this.

They had been working all day and, for few hours in the afternoon, Ziva decided to take a break. Tony's eyes followed her while she was leaving the bullpen, probably heading towards the restroom and the vending machine. He let few seconds pass, just not to be noticed by her, then he left the squad room as well. He walked through the familiar corridors, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He wished he could hush it because the beating was making him feel more and more anxious, but there was no way he could give orders to his heart – and he had learned this quite well in his life.

When he entered the break room, his gaze wandered around the room, looking for her: she was standing next to the vending machine and she was just about to insert in a dollar bill.

"Hey, wait," he said, before even realizing he was actually going to say something. He was surprised and she was too. He saw her start and turn quickly, and that was when she saw him. She struggled to smile, but he noticed the embarrassment on her face and he took a step, wishing deep down in his heart he could sweep away that feeling from her. "I'll buy you the coffee," he said with a smile and he placed himself next to her. Ziva didn't protest for his offer, but she smiled slightly back at him and moved back a little, murmuring a "Thank you" that he barely heard. He inserted a bill and pushed the coffee button, then he turned and rested his back onto the vending machine. They looked at each other for a while, without needing to wonder what the other was thinking. Tony could see in her eyes a shadow of fear, and he tried to reassure her with his gaze. Even though he shared her fears and her embarrassment, he didn't want her to feel like this. It somehow hurt him to see the disorientation on her face and he wished he could heal that feeling with a stroke, just like he had done that day in the elevator.

When the buzzing of the vending machine stopped, Tony realized that the coffee was ready. Since he had bought it, he had to take the coffee, so he turned and grabbed the hot paper cup. He went back staring at Ziva and gave her the coffee with a timid smile. She smiled back and took the paper cup in her hands: while doing this, their fingers unintentionally touched and he felt chills run through his whole body. Ziva started sipping the coffee slowly, looking down at the floor, obviously trying to avoid looking into Tony's eyes. Tony's eyes, though, wouldn't leave her. He studied her face carefully, admiring her beautiful features and again he wondered how it could be possible that she would be ever be with him. The daily routine at work and the life he was trying to have with her outside the job belonged to two completely different realities and he was struggling to find a way to make these two worlds meet.

After a few minutes of silence, Ziva's coffee was obviously gone. She couldn't keep sipping because she knew that Tony knew that she was only trying to buy time, so she walked to the bin and threw away the paper cup. She murmured "Thank you" again and Tony realized that he had to say something if he didn't want to miss the chance; but as much as he attempted, he couldn't find anything to say.

"Ziva," he simply murmured eventually. She immediately raised her gaze and met Tony's eyes once again. There it was: the lost look, the scare in her eyes, the anxiety. There it was again and it hit him like a sharp knife in the chest. "I just… I think we should talk… about it," he stuttered, insecure. Ziva nodded, biting her lip, without escaping his gaze.

"I…" Tony hinted at a laugh and lowered his head, with his mouth still open, trying to find the words he had been looking for for hours. Then he went back looking at her, with a light smile on his lips. "I don't really know what to say, I don't know how…" He paused for a moment and lingered with his eyes on the ceiling. "… I don't know how to say what I want to say." He frowned and smiled again, a little sadly.

Ziva stood there in silence for a few instants, then she spoke, with a serious and concentrated expression on her face and in her eyes. "We have never been good with words."

Tony laughed again, nervously. "No, we haven't," he agreed and smirked at her and she raised a little but beautiful smile. The silence filled the air again and Tony felt the embarrassment surround his body and he suddenly felt hot. He didn't know what to say: he was in a situation he had never been before, and he felt the fear of screwing up everything. Yet he desperately wanted to say something because, after all, he desperately wanted her.

"I… I've never been good at expressing what I feel and, you know…", he laughed once again, embarrassed. "I don't know if this is the right occasion to start doing it, but…" Tony stared at her intensely. "I mean, I hope there will be time to… to talk, and to actually discuss this… _us_, I mean, and I just…" He stopped, unable to add anything else. He felt bad for not being capable of telling her what he wanted to say, but the smile on her lips that followed his words gave him hope and relief. She understood. She always understood him, more than anyone else. He didn't need words, she _knew _what he was trying to say, and this comforted Tony a lot. Knowing that she always understood him made him feel better: there was no need of words, no need of long talks. A smile, a look, a few words spoken with sincerity were all they needed. Tony hoped she would understand how much he wanted to be with her, despite the fear, despite the incredulity he felt when he thought of them together. He wanted her to understand that he wanted to try, even though he didn't know what would happen, if it would work. So he just took a deep breath and said it, still contemplating her beautiful face. "I want to try."

Ziva understood. Just like she had understood what he felt after the kiss, just like she had understood what he was going through because of Brenda's story, just like she had always understood what he was trying to hide from everyone, she understood. She smiled again and this time it wasn't just a little tiny smile, but it was a brighter, bigger, fascinating smile. It totally lit Tony's heart and he felt all the tension of the past minutes slip away from him, leaving only a feeling of happiness and relief.

He placed his hands on her cheeks and stood there, still, for a while, unable to leave the beautiful view of her eyes. Then he kissed her again, softly, tenderly, as if he were trying to tell her what he was feeling with a touch instead of with words. He felt that Ziva's lips were raising a smile under his and he deepened the kiss, while his thumbs couldn't stop stroking the skin on her cheeks. She pulled closer to him and her smell got into his nostrils and filled his body with warmth and peace; and then he was sure he wanted to keep feeling those emotions for the rest of his life.

Ziva was the one who pulled away. She rested her forehead on his and smiled, while his gaze kept wandering around her face, trying to capture every detail. "I think we should go," she said with a smirk, and Tony laughed, more because of the emotions than because of what she had just told him.

"I agree," he said.

She pulled back, freeing her face from his hands and smiling. She then walked past him, leaving him alone in the break room, his mind filled with a whirl of thoughts that he just couldn't hush. It took him at least twenty seconds to convince his body to move away as well, but then he forced himself to go and he followed her.

* * *

><p>For the rest of the day, the only thing Tony could think about was Ziva. Yes, he had always thought about Ziva a lot at work – and the fact that she was right there, sitting in front of him, didn't really help – but this time he just couldn't let her go. It was impossible. Even if he tried to focus on the work, that beautiful smile went back showing up in his mind and he found himself smirking at the screen of the computer without any visible reason. He mentally thought himself lucky that Gibbs wasn't around, otherwise the boss would have suspected something or at least made fun of him. Tony didn't dare looking at Ziva, knowing that in the instant he would he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of her. He wished he could walk to her desk and just talk to her, he wished he could kiss her again and feel again that mixture of emotions that he had felt running through his veins when their lips had touched in the restroom. He wondered whether he had to ask her out, to invite her for dinner, but he was afraid it was too early for that.<p>

_Screw it, Tony_, he said to himself. _It's not too early. You've waited for a long time for this, and she has too. _

Then, above all, that was what he wanted and – now he knew – that was what _she _wanted too. He started to think about what he could prepare for her, but whatever he thought about sounded too weird or just not for them. The truth was, the only thing he wanted to do with her was to be with her. He didn't really care about where they were going, what they were doing. Everything would be just fine, that wasn't the problem. He just had to tell her he wanted to spend the evening with her and, for the first time in a long time, he wasn't afraid of telling her the truth, the truth about what he was feeling, the truth about what he wanted.

When she got up, around seven, she said "Bye" to everyone with a smile and lingered for a second on Tony's face.

Tony smiled back and, while she was walking toward the elevator, he said, loudly enough for her to hear him, "It's late, I'm going too. Bye."

He tried not to give the impression he was running after her, but he thought that, anyway, it was normal: he was just trying to reach the elevator before the doors closed. Ziva was waiting for him and he jumped into the elevator, next to her. He smiled and, without looking at her, he asked, "You want to do something tonight?"

Tony heard her little laugh which made him smile even more. "What do you have in mind?" she asked with a smirk, turning to look at him.

He shrugged and laughed too. "I don't know, pizza at my place?" He looked at her for a moment.

"Okay," she said, still smiling. She raised her eyebrows a little, with amusement, and went back staring at the doors of the elevator.

"So… my car?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

They exchanged a quick glance and they both smiled at the other.

They left the elevator as soon as the doors opened. He walked her to his car and they both got in, silently. While driving, Tony couldn't stop wondering whether that was a dream or not. He couldn't believe what had happened in the past twenty four hours, he couldn't believe that only a day before they were friends and now they were a woman and a man trying to start a life together.

The drive was silent. They sometimes caught the other looking at them and they laughed or smirked. It was a beautiful feeling to know that the person next to you was thinking right what you were thinking, that you were both in the middle of the same situation, ready to live it together.

When they arrived, Tony stopped the car and Ziva lingered with her eyes on the building on her right, her gaze running up the wall until it reached the window that belonged to Tony's apartment. Tony knew what she was thinking: it had been a long time since the last time she had been there.

They jumped off the car and took the elevator up to Tony's floor. Tony mentally thanked himself for having cleaned the house the day before: even though Ziva would have laughed at Tony's usual mess, he preferred to enjoy the night without thinking about being careful and trying not to fall to the floor tripping over boxes. When they arrived at Tony's floor, he walked to the door and addressed her with another smile. She was standing there, a little embarrassed, but with no tension on her face, just happiness. Tony opened the door and walked in, immediately followed by Ziva.

"I'm going to call for the pizzas," he said, and he went to the phone on the table near the couch. During the phone call, he watched her look around the place, smile at the little details she noticed, touch the furniture with the tips of her fingers. It was such a new view for him, her at his place, and he loved it. He loved to see what her face was telling him, he loved to see that embarrassment mixed with surprise and joy and expectations. It was beautiful to think that he was the one that was making her feel like that. This, above all things, was what made him the happiest.

When the phone call was over, he walked closer to her. She smiled as he broke the distance and welcomed his arrive with a few words. "It is quite different here than what I remembered it was like."

"What did you remember it was like?" he asked with a smirk.

She smiled and bent her head a little. "Dustier and messier."

"I guess it's a good thing that something changed, then," he concluded.

She nodded, looking around. "Yes," she answered eventually, absent-mindedly.

They stood in silence for a while, then he asked her, "Do you want to sit?"

Ziva looked at him and nodded. "Sure, where?"

"Couch?"

"Is it okay to eat on the couch?"

"Sure, come on."

They sat onto the couch, next to each other. At first, Ziva sat looking in front of her, at the television, but soon she found herself uncomfortable in that position. Tony had leant onto the back of the couch and was looking at her intensely. She smiled at him and did the same.

Tony stared at her and felt the need to say something. For some reason, it was much easier now than it had been that afternoon in the restroom. "It's nice to have you here," he said, letting go the simple plain truth.

She waited in silence for a moment. "It is nice to be here," she then said back, with a smile on her lips.

Tony smiled too then he lowered his gaze for a moment. "It's odd, you know… me and you, I mean."

Ziva laughed a little and nodded. "Yes, it is."

"Yet beautiful," he said, staring at her deeply. She smiled lightly and Tony read on her face that she shared his opinion.

"You know, I…" He got closer to her. "I don't really care about anything else right now. The past, all that's happened… Gibbs, the rules… I don't care." He paused for a moment, just to find the confirmation in her eyes, the confirmation that she didn't care either. "I want to listen to what _I _want, from now on," he concluded, feeling that that basically summed up everything he had in mind.

When Ziva smiled, he knew that she wanted the same.

The night was beautiful. They had a nice chat before the pizza arrived, a chat about whatever they felt like talking about. Tony had started asking her if she wanted a bottle of beer and they had found themselves in the middle of a nice and amusing chat. When the pizza arrived, they ate it while Tony was telling funny stories. He offered her a slice of his pizza and she accepted it with a smile. They laughed a lot, talked a lot, shared a lot of thoughts but never touched the topic of their feelings. There would be a lot of time for that.

The beauty of laughing together was that it brought them inadvertently close. Their faces often touched and those touches were always followed by smiles and other laughs. Eventually, he kissed her and she let him grab her face with his hand and deepen the kiss as much as he wanted. She leant her back onto the couch until he was basically over her, with his hands going down her neck and his lips covering every inch of her face.

They couldn't tell how they got to the bedroom. They just found themselves there and it just felt right. At first, Tony touched her with calm tenderness. His lips caressed her body softly and he moved slowly, but after a while they were both in the middle of a vortex of passion that they didn't want to stop. That night lasted what felt like a life and neither of them seemed to mind. They enjoyed every moment, they shared whatever they could share, they got to know each other in a way they had always wanted to.

It was a new sensation, to touch her like that. It was a new feeling to have her under his hands, around him wherever he went. He loved that new reality, he loved that new feeling. While he kissed her, he knew they would still need time to got closer than that. They still had to learn to share a lot of things they weren't ready to share yet. There was a feeling of comfort and home to find in the other, but Tony knew they would eventually find it. He didn't want to rush things: they had taken the steps he had always wanted to take. What would happen from that moment on wasn't to be calculated, wasn't to be programmed. He was ready to discover what his life with Ziva would bring to him, what it would bring to them.

And that morning, when he woke up and saw her in the bed next to him, Tony didn't feel the uneasiness nor the fear anymore. He just felt happy, free and hopeful. The rays of the sun shone on her skin and the only thing he could think about was that everything was beautiful.


End file.
